The Beautiful and Damned
by Oo Livia Cullen oO
Summary: It’s not easy being Rosalie’s Hale best friend, especially when you’re not a size zero. But, for once luck and love are going to be on Bella's side. This is the story of a relationship. All-Human. ExB.
1. Girls and Boys

Disclaimer: I'm the master of my fate, the captain of my soul but I don't own _Twilight_. Don't sue.

Summary: It's not easy being Rosalie's Hale best friend, especially when you're not a size zero. But, for once luck and love are going to be on her side. This is the story of a relationship.

Note: Welcome! I hope you will enjoy this! I have to thank my two betas **LaSerenade** and **IChimpz69** who really made this a lot better than it was. Thanks for the comments and most importantly, THANK YOU for fixing my commas! =) Thank you all the girls over at adifferentforest who really helped me with all their precious pieces of advice and with all their personal stories. The title comes from a novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Warning: This deals with body images issues so do not read if you find that offensive. The opinions stated in here are not my own but the character's. Bella thinking that she is fat does not mean that I'm insulting everyone who is plus-sized. It's just means that Bella has some serious self-esteem and body image issues.

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**The Beautiful and Damned**

**1.**** Girls and Boys**

~ Bella ~

Let me just start by saying that I absolutely adore Rose. She's my best friend. But still… sometimes… sometimes, when I forget that I love her to bits and pieces, it's really hard to be Rose's friend. After ten years, I still can't fathom how someone like Rose is a friend with someone like me.

Rose is something of a miracle. She's truly one of a kind. Rose is tall, blonde, and has the most amazing blue eyes you'll ever see. Rose has got perfect C-cup breasts, a slim waist, and legs that go on forever. If perfection existed it would be in the shape of Rose. Rose also has an IQ of 180; she is a genius. She's a structural engineer. I know, life is unfair. Drop dead gorgeous and intelligent? Tell me about it.

We went to college together. I met her six months after class started. She was in the same building than I was and one night, she found out her roommate had been selling her stuff on eBay and having sex on her super expensive sheets. I never saw someone so furious. She broke the girl's nose and wrist in three places, and to calm her down, the RA told her she could have whoever she wanted as a roommate as long as she stopped being a harpy. I was on the same floor to watch the show. She looked around and pointed at me and said, "I want her!" And she got me. Much later, I asked her why she chose me and she said that it was because I was the only with a book in my hands. That was supposed to mean that I was somewhat serious and quiet. She was right of course.

Yeah. It's hard to measure up to someone like Rose. Especially if you're like me. And by like me, I mean, fat. I'm not _that_ fat, but I'm plump enough for my 5'4" frame. And when you're standing next to someone who is a size 4, you appear much fatter. Which sounds kind of vain, I'm realizing. Vain but true. Don't bother telling me the contrary.

"I'm fat" becomes an excuse very easily when you're shy like I am. He won't like me; I'm fat. Why would they hire me? I'm fat. Why would she be my friend? I'm fat. Why go out? I won't have fun because I'm fat. Why bother with shopping? I'm too fat. As if that was the only thing that could possibly be wrong with me. I had this great automatic built-in excuse. This didn't sit right with Rose.

Rose quickly put an end to that. She told me to stop whining and get on with my life. She forced me to go out and socialize. And I'll always thank her for that. But it still doesn't change the fact that I'll always feel self-conscious. I still think that my weight is the first thing that people see about me, the first thing that guys see in me. It's still the first thing that comes to my mind when I have to describe myself. It's not _I'm an architect, I'm a brunette, I'm an Ivy-league alumni._ It's _I'm fat._

Like I said, it's hard to love Rose sometimes. Like the times when a cute guy comes to talk to you just to ask for Rose's number. Or like the guys who fake being your friend so they can be friends with Rose. Or the guy who asks his friend to fuck you so that the room is free for him to fuck Rose. Like when you walk on the street with Rose and all the men turn their heads to stare at her. Like when a guy talks to Rose and you're next to her, but it's as if you don't exist. It may sound trivial, but after awhile, it really gets to you.

Well… to be perfectly honest, I never tried to be thin. I don't believe in dieting. I'm way too clumsy to do any kind of sport that would allow me to burn some serious calories. I swim, and I do Pilates and yoga. I'm flexible, but not thin.

Tonight is girl's night out. We see each other twice a week at O'Neil's. However, tonight is going down in history; Rose has made partner at her firm. So she left her husband Emmett at home with his video games and came to celebrate with me.

"What's up with this place tonight?" Rose asks as she gets up to get us another round.

"I think they have a new hot bartender, everyone came to ogle her," I answer toying with my paper umbrella.

"Fuck it, I'm going in!" she exclaims as she slides down her top a little so the male bartender will be able to see her plunging cleavage.

"Good luck!" I say as I turn toward the menu on the table and read it for the hundredth time, just to have something to do.

Ten minutes later, Rose still hasn't come back and it's quite a surprise. Usually, she always succeeds in getting drinks before anyone else. It's the blonde with big boobs thing, it works miracles on bartenders. I've finished reading the menu from cover to cover and I'm starting to get uncomfortable. I imagine everyone wondering why the plump girl is sitting alone on a Friday night in a crowded bar. I close my eyes, take a deep breath and chant all my positive attributes to myself to clear away the panic.

When I open my eyes again, there's a drop dead gorgeous waiter in front of me asking me something. He's got bronze hair and green eyes. He's wearing the standard O'Neil's t-shirt with jeans and chucks. He's quite tall and just too attractive to be real.

"Excuse me?" I say, blushing.

"I was just wondering if you would like another drink," he says in a nervous voice. He must be new at the job.

"Oh, no, thank you! My friend went to the bar to get us some refills." I see his face fall. "But could you bring us another plate of nachos and some napkins, please?"

I see the corner of his delicious lips lift up into a bright and playful smile.

"I'm not a waiter," he replies, "but I would love to get you a plate of nachos if you'll allow me."

"Oh fuck!" I blush beet-red immediately. "I'm so so sorry." I'm just going to go die of embarrassment now.

"No, it's okay, really!" He says with a chuckle. "I'm Edward. Cullen. Edward Cullen."

"Bella Swan," I answer, not feeling the burn on my cheeks lessen. "I'm really sorry, I thought you were a waiter because of your shirt, I'm so sorry."

"Oh! No, I just love O'Neil's; my brother is the owner so I get free shirts and free booze from time to time," he smiles.

He seems gentle. I like gentle.

"Lucky you!" I respond.

"So, about that drink? Can I buy you something?" He asks with a kind smile.

Is he serious? Is he hitting on me? The hot gorgeous guy who's not a waiter wants to buy _me_ a drink? Color me confused.

"Hmm… I don't know." I stammer. Maybe this is joke. Or a bet.

Get yourself together. You're a smart, independent, and successful woman. You don't need a man to complete you! Well, I don't need it but it'd be nice…

"I'll even get you nachos if you want," he carries on. "Come on, one drink. One drink and I'll forgive you for the waiter fiasco."

"Yeah… sure…" I finally say.

"What would you like?" he asks

"A Mojito would be great" I smile and blush.

"I'll be right back!"

Edward is literally back in less than two minutes, my Mojito, his beer and a giant plate of delicious looking nachos in hand.

"Wow that was fast!" I remark.

"Yeah, I told you, I know people!" He smiles.

I sip the Mojito quietly, waiting for him to make the first move in the conversation. I anxiously turn my head toward the bar to see where Rosalie is and why the hell she is taking so long.

"So, Bella, what do you do?" he asks after taking a long gulp of his beer.

How I wish I could be that beer bottle. His mouth is just perfect and way too kissable for my sanity.

"I'm an architect," I answer.

Head turn. Rose, Rose, Rose, where are you?

"Really?" He says with a surprised look on his face.

Usually when I tell men I'm an architect, they always assume that it means that I'm an interior designer. As if women were only capable of decorating and not actually designing a building.

"Yeah, I'm with Volturi&Smith."

Head turn. Looking for shiny blond hair…

"Have you designed something I might have seen in the city?" He seems really interested.

"I designed that new park/playground near the riverbanks. You might have heard about it." I answer proudly; I put my tears, sweat, and blood into this piece of land.

"The one on Oak Street?"

"Yeah, that one." I say surprised he actually knows which one I'm talking about.

"Seriously? My sister Kate goes there every day since it was finished 2 years ago. Her kids love it!"

"Well, I'm glad they like it!"

Where the hell is Rose? Maybe something happened to her! I'm starting to get worried.

"Anything else?"

"Well, the park/playground was the first big thing I did on my own, but I helped with the renovation of the Opera and with the new wing of the modern art museum. But we make most of our money from people who want to build their house or expand it. I've designed several of them, mostly in the pricey neighborhoods."

"That's nice! Do you like it?" He asks in between nachos.

"Yeah, I love it! Strangely, I never imagined myself being an architect. I've always wanted to do Fine Arts and become an artist. But my first architecture class thrilled me so much, I decided I would let someone else be Picasso and that I'd rather be the new Jean Nouvel."

He appears embarrassed as he gulps down the rest of his beer. "Yeah, well, what we plan for isn't always what happens." He says with a knowing smile.

Head turn. No shiny blond hair in sight. I open my purse to take out my iPhone. She's been gone for over twenty minutes now. It's not normal.

"Are you okay? You seem nervous." His hand covers mine gently to stop me from fidgeting with my phone. His touch sends electricity all the way up to my shoulder and I feel myself blush.

"My friend Rose hasn't come back." I answer as I start dialing.

His fingers encircle my wrist to stop me and I see him blush. Well, that's new.

"I…" He pauses as he runs his hands through his already disheveled hair. "I might have asked the bartender to make your friend wait so that I could have time to get to know you," he finishes nervously.

I'm split between feeling a bit annoyed and feeling all warm and gooey inside. That's very sweet in a sorta creepy way.

"How long was he supposed to stall her?" I ask after a pause.

"Half an hour." He answers reluctantly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I just wanted to talk to you for a bit."

"Well, we still have ten minutes, right?" I say with a smile.

It's not every day a guy goes to the trouble of keeping Rose occupied to talk to _me_.

"Yeah, we have." He says with a bright smile as he removes his hand from mine. I still feel the electricity zapping me and I shudder pleasantly.

"So, what do _you_ do?" I ask still sipping my drink.

"Well, technically I'm a doctor, but I'm a music teacher." He says running a hand in his hair.

"How is that?" I ask, very curious as to how you can go from physician to music teacher.

"Well, my father is a doctor and I've always wanted to follow into his footsteps. After finishing med school, I worked with my father for about 2 years and then I realized that my heart wasn't into it. I turned to the thing that I had always loved: music. I returned to college and voilà, I'm a music teacher at the conservatory."

"That's a bit unusual. What do you teach or play?"

Now that I know he's a musician, I can't help but watching his fingers and thinking about how skilled they must be.

"I teach Music Theory and play the piano."

"Are you a genius or something? You can't possibly be a doctor and a music virtuoso!"

"Well, I can tell you I'm definitely not a virtuoso and as far as medicine is concerned, I just have the diploma, it doesn't mean anything now."

"Still, it's impressive."

"What you do is impressive as well. I cannot even begin to fathom how to design a building!"

"Well, if you get bored with music, you could return to college one more time and do architecture."

"Music is it for me. I never want to do anything else." He seems so passionate about what he does that he takes my breath away.

I open my mouth to ask another question when I see Edward's eyes staring at something behind me. I turn around and notice a very furious Rosalie making her way back. I see Edward's eyes scanning her over and I feel my heart sink. Of course, he'd be interested in Rose now that he has seen her…

"Your friend is coming back. I better disappear before you tell her I purposely prevented her from getting alcohol." He says as he gets up. "Would you be interested in going to dinner with me sometime this week?"

"Seriously?" I blurt out before realizing what I said.

"Yeah, seriously," he laughs "I'd love to see you again, Bella."

I feel a weird sensation in my stomach very similar to the sensation when the sun caresses your skin in the early summer: a delicious shiver of sheer pleasure. I feel like I'm going to implode from happiness or melt at his feet in a puddle of goo.

"Can I have your number?" He asks quickly as he runs his hand in his hair again.

"Yeah, sure."

He takes out his iPhone and I take out mine and we bump them to exchange contact info. I love technology!

"I'll call you tomorrow to arrange this. Have a good night."

I don't even have the time to wish him the same thing before he has already disappeared. I'm still stunned and deliriously happy when Rose finally arrives at our table a few minutes later.

"We are NEVER coming back to this fucking bar ever again!" she vents, her voice shaking with fury. "Half an hour to get two miserable drinks! Can you fucking believe it? The bartender must have been gay! He looked as if he was ignoring me on purpose! Asshole!"

I'm still smiling like an idiot during the next five minutes of her monologue. After a while, she finally notices I'm definitely not listening to her.

"Why are you smiling like that? You're scaring me, Swan." She said as she downs her Martini.

"You are not gonna believe what just happened! Hell, I don't believe it just happened!" I say, still smiling and still stunned.

Edward Cullen. And to think, today was just a day like any other!

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Note: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. This is going to be a short story: from 5 to 10 chapters. This is rated M for sexuality later in the story. I treasure reviews, don't hesitate to send me one! =)


	2. Love Me Do Vs You Can’t Always Get What

Disclaimer: I'm the master of my fate, the captain of my soul but I don't own _Twilight_. Don't sue.

Summary: It's not easy being Rosalie's Hale best friend, especially when you're not a size zero. But, for once luck and love are going to be on Bella's side. This is the story of a relationship.

Note: Welcome! I hope you will enjoy this! I have to thank my two betas **LaSerenade** and **IChimpz69** who really made this a lot better than it was. Thanks for the comments and most importantly, THANK YOU for fixing my commas! =) Thank you all the girls over at adifferentforest who really helped me with all their precious pieces of advice and with all their personal stories. The title comes from a novel by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Warning: This deals with body images issues so do not read if you find that offensive. The opinions stated in here are not my own but the character's. Bella thinking that she is fat does not mean that I'm insulting everyone who is plus-sized. It's just means that Bella has some serious self-esteem and body image issues.

* * *

**The Beautiful and Damned**

**2. Love Me Do Vs You Can't Always Get What You Want**

I've always been kind of lucky concerning my weight. Well, as lucky as one can be. I wasn't always this plump. I was a thin child. And then, I don't know how it happened, I woke up one day, I was 12 and I had B-cup breasts. I was curvier than all the girls in my year. And then, it just went downhill. I'm now the proud owner of E-cup breasts. I guess I never watched my weight or what I was eating, and that's how it happened. My parents never made a big deal out of it. I heard some awful stories about mothers trying to get their teenage daughters to lose weight, sending them off to fat camp, locking the fridge, or reminding them all day long that they were fat and that they should lose weight to get a boyfriend.

My mom was never like this. Growing up, my mom told me I was beautiful every day before going to school. When I came home crying because that guy I had a crush on didn't want to date me because I was too fat for his standards, my father always told me I was his pretty girl and that all boys were idiots. My parents were great, they still are.

I was lucky in the high school department as well. I never was 'the fat girl' even though I often considered myself to be. People never shunned me, I was never excluded. I had a lot of friends; I was always invited to parties. I was never insulted publically or humiliated. Even though all the boys I had crushes on never wanted to go out with me because they didn't like the way I looked, they never said it to my face. But I knew. They were nice and kind of embarrassed but they were polite and never made fun of me. But I knew. So the problem was me. Even though I had great friends, I never wanted to go out with them because I felt like it wasn't my place. As if only slim good looking people were allowed to have fun because they were normal.

College brought changes in me. To be honest, Rose changed me more than college did but don't tell her that, it would make her way too happy. Rose told me I was too whiny and in constant need of reassurance. She also said that I should go looking for it elsewhere because she was not my mother. Rose woke me up and got me my first boyfriend. She also sent me to therapy.

Ten years later, Rose is still trying to get me to go out more so I can't even begin to explain the sheer joy she felt when I told her that Edward called me last night and asked me to dinner tonight. Panicked, I called Rose for help and now she's knee deep into piles and mountains of clothes, trying to find the perfect outfit.

"You make $7000 a month, how can you not have any nice clothes to wear?" Rose wonders as she throws more and more stuff to the ground.

"Don't be a bitch; you know I have nice things!" I protest as I slump onto my bed.

"You have nice things to wear to work but you have nothing casual chic to wear! Don't you go out at all?"

"Not since you got married," I say with a half-smile.

"You're really funny, Bella. I'm serious! What do you wear on weekends?"

"Jeans and slippers."

"Well, you can't go out on a date wearing your ratty jeans and your bunny slippers!"

I huffed, "I want to hate you right now, but I can't because I know you're right."

Rose goes into the depths of my walk-in closet and she resurfaces two minutes later with a red dress I haven't worn in at least three years. I'm not even sure I'll be able to squeeze in it.

She hands me the dress, "wear this."

"I'm not wearing this. I'm going to dinner, I'm not going clubbing!"

"This dress makes your boobs look great!" she tries to convince me.

"This dress makes me look like a stripper. And a fat one at that!" I reply.

"Don't start the fat bullshit," she warns me. "Why did you call me if you're not going to take my advice? I'm telling you, wear the red dress!"

"Rose, I'm not wearing the red dress. _You_ can afford to wear red dresses, I can't! Everybody is going to be looking at the fat girl in the flashy red dress. I'm lucky as it is to have a date with a guy; I'm not screwing it up by wearing something that doesn't fit me."

"You bet your sweet ass you're lucky to have a date! You never go out, you never meet new people, and you never make the first move. It's a miracle this guy wasn't afraid of your bad vibes."

"Rose, I'm not you! I can't make the first move only to get turned down afterwards. Why bother?"

"Bella, guys like you. Guys think you're hot but you're sending them some pretty heavy 'don't approach me' vibes, so they don't make the first move because you look so fucking uninterested that they think you're going to shoot them down."

"Yeah right, I believe you."

"You know, Emmett was interested in you when you first joined Volturi&Smith. He thought you were all cute and funny and he tried to get you to go out with him but he gave up because you didn't seem interested."

"As if I would believe anything coming out of your mouth!" I smile. "You're just trying to convince me to wear the red dress. Can you imagine me dating Emmett, seriously?" I chuckle.

"What's wrong with Emmett?" Rose seems pissed. I guess I just insulted her husband without meaning to.

"Nothing's wrong with Emmett! It's just that I'll never date a coworker, that's trouble waiting to happen!"

"Bella, every guy I knew who had a crush on you gave up because they thought you were too cold. You have no confidence and guys aren't attracted to insecurity, they can smell it."

"How many, did you say? Three over the last ten years? YAY me!" Sarcasm is seeping through every pore of my body. "Well, I'm sorry I'm fat and that I don't sleep with every guy who has a fat fetish."

"Come on, don't be so touchy, Bella! You know you don't make an effort. And for the record, you're not fat, you're curvy. You have a great ass if only you used it to your advantage and don't get me started on your boobs."

I huff and I sit on my bed. I still have nothing to wear.

Rose hands me another dress. "Wear this. It's black; I know how much you like to make yourself invisible." She taunts.

"I wore this at a funeral; I can't wear this on a date. It's bad luck." I protest.

"You're starting to piss me off. Why did you call me if you don't want my help? I could be having sex with Emmett instead of being here!" Having sex with Emmett is all Rose can think about since they decided to try for a baby.

I storm off my bedroom and get down into the living room, holding the front door open for her to leave. "Then go have sex with Emmett! Nobody's stopping you!"

"You're nervous, I get that. It's no reason to take it out on me, Bella." Rose puts on her coat and pick up her purse. "Call me tomorrow with the details. Have a good night."

Rose leaves and I slam the door shut. I'm mad at her and I don't even know why. I can't stand when she starts to comment on all the things that are wrong with me. She's slim; she just doesn't understand what it's like…

Fifteen minutes later, I feel silly for getting angry at Rose and I still haven't found anything to wear. I decide to take a very deep breath and make a fucking decision already. Edward came to talk to me and I was wearing my work clothes: a white blouse, a black blazer and a black pencil skirt so, I guess, he isn't too picky. After a long shower, I finally decide on my best (and most expensive) pair of jeans and of the plump girl classic: black sweater-dress converted as top.

I've just finished applying my makeup when the doorbell is ringing. Great, he's early! I rush down the stairs and I open the door. I'm ashamed to say that he takes my breath away. He's simply wearing jeans, a red fitted t-shirt, green chucks and a leather jacket but he's so gorgeous I almost choke on my saliva.

"Good evening." He says with that crooked smile of his, "I'm sorry I'm early, I'm conditioned to earliness because of my job."

"No problem, I just need to get my purse and put on my shoes," the moment I say this, we both look down to my bare feet and I blush because my toes are painted a very flashy purple, "please come in!"

I lead him to the living room, wondering if I should take his jacket or something.

"Your house is amazing," he comments looking around, "did you design it yourself?" he asks.

"Yes, I did. It took some time to get my dream onto paper but I really like the end result."

He's looking at rows and rows of books on the walls of my living room, "it's very homey; I like it. You really do love your books," he says, running his hands on their spines and for some reason, it makes me shiver.

"I'm going to get my purse and my shoes. Make yourself at home." I leave the living room in a rush and run up the stairs to quickly collect my belongings. After a quick hair and makeup check in the mirror, I scurry down and almost end up on the floor when I try to put on my black ballet flats at the same time.

When I finally get back into the living room, I see him half sprawled on my couch, reading _The Poetics of Space_. He doesn't seem to have noticed that I have come back so I clear my throat lightly in hopes to get his attention.

He smiles at me crookedly "You did say to make myself at home. I took that literally. This seems like a good book," he points at the book he just put on the coffee table.

"Well, I like it, but some people have found it completely boring," I shrug. What does he want me to say? That this book is what convinced me to be a great architect? Well, it is, but I don't think he'll be all that interested.

He gets up and comes to stand beside me, "are you ready?"

"Yes. You were very mysterious on the phone. Where are you taking me?" I ask locking my front door and he leads us to his car: a silver Volvo. I guess it _is_ a teacher's car.

He opens the door for me. "I wasn't sure what your favorite food was but I took a wild guess. We're going to Fleur de Lys, can't go wrong with French."

"I love French food," I say with a smile. "I've never been to Fleur de Lys, though, it's almost impossible to get a reservation." I look at him driving and there's a playful glint in his eyes. "Ok, how did you do it?"

"If I tell you, then the mystery will be gone and I won't get a second date out of you."

"Maybe at the end of the evening, _you_ won't want a second date and I'll be dateless and I still won't know how you got a reservation in such short notice to one of the best restaurant in town."

"Why wouldn't I want a second date?"

"Why would you is more like it," I mutter but I know he heard me.

The rest of the ride is silent and I feel very awkward getting out of the car when we finally arrive at the restaurant. Maybe I should have had Rose call me sometime during the night in order to bail me out if it's a disaster.

As we make our way into the atrium of Fleur de Lys, I am suddenly aware of how underdressed I am and I can feel usual panic rush through me. I feel like everyone's eyes are on me and they are all wondering how the fat girl managed to get a guy like that to go out with her. I know it's silly and that I'm clearly being paranoid but I just can't help it.

The maître d' welcomes Edward like he has known him for ever and he leads us to what he calls "ze best teible in ze 'aouse." His French accent makes me laugh under my hand and when we finally get to the table, Edward is pulling the chair for me. All this gallantry is making me suspicious. There has got to be something wrong with this guy.

"So, you like?" he asks gesturing to the whole restaurant in a wide circle of his hand.

"Who did you murder to have this table? You can tell me, I'll help you hide the body." I joke.

"You always assume the worst of people, don't you?" his eyes are careful.

"It was a joke." I say a little embarrassed that he has seen right through me in the first thirty minutes of our date.

"You know what they say: there is always some half-truth in a joke." He hands me a menu that the waitress just gave him. "Freud would have a field day with you, you know that?"

"Freud already had his field day with me. I'm giving up on him."

"Don't let my father hear you say that. He's very big on therapy. I don't think there was a time in my life when I wasn't in therapy."

"Are you joking? Sometimes I can't tell with you."

"Well, I wish I were but no. My family is very big on communication and therapy. They are the kind of people who always want to talk everything out. We have family day every Sunday."

Suddenly, I had a very clear picture of Doctor and Mrs. Cullen around a fire, singing Kumbaya and wearing flowers in their long hair.

I open my menu and scrutinize its content. "Family day?" I ask after lingering thoroughly on the Duckling braised legs, juniper-berry sauce, wild mushroom pancake and tarragon.

"Well, you know how some family have family night, right? This wasn't enough for my parents, so they decided on a family day. We spend the whole day at their house and we play games, we eat, we talk about our week etc…"

"I think if I spent that much time with my mom and dad, we would end up killing each other."

"Well, sometime I want to kill them too, if it's reassuring." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, I want to kill them most the time." He laughs.

"How many siblings do you have?"

"I have four sisters. They're all older than me and they're already married and have a ton of kids."

Well, ok, that explains that. With five women in the house, you have to have _some_ manners.

"That's nice. I bet you are mommy and daddy's favorite, aren't you?"

"My sisters seem to think so, but I know my parents are disappointed in me because I haven't given them some grandkids yet." he says with a fake sigh as if this causes him great pain but I can tell that he couldn't give a damn.

I peruse through all the delicious dishes on the menu for a long moment and he does the same. I just can't choose, everything makes my mouth water and I can't even mention the desserts. Sinful. I feel guilty for an instant. This is not going to help the fat problem. I don't know if I can eat whatever I want on a first guy with a guy that is so out of my league. I know I should be ordering a salad and the fish but he asked _me_ out, he must have some inkling that I'm not the sort of girl who eats rabbit food. I'll take dessert as well. I should NOT be ashamed that I like to eat good food.

"Have you chosen?" he asks after another long moment.

"I think I have. What are you taking?"

"I'm having the lamb, what about you?"

"The duckling braised legs with the berry sauce." I look at him for any sign of disgust or disappointment but there is none. There's only a smile on his full lips. "Everything looks so delicious! I'll have to come back."

"I know. This is my favorite restaurant in town. I come here as often as I can." He looks at the wine list for a moment and then back at me. "Do you drink wine?"

"Yes, I do. Anything you pick will be fine." To be honest, I like good wine but I'm by no mean an expert, and if Edward goes to Fleur de Lys as often as he says he is, he'll be in a better position to choose the best suited wine.

Edward calls the sommelier over and orders a bottle of red wine in what I assume to be perfect French.

No way is this guy real.

* * *

"Hold your tongue, sweetheart, the Beatles are NOT overrated!" Edward exclaims suddenly in between bites of his lamb.

"Yes, they are!" I retort back. "Everyone holds them on this pedestal like they're the best band the world has even known..."

"They ARE the best band the world has ever known!" Edward cuts me off with a smirk on his lips.

"I'm not saying they're bad or anything. I like the Beatles just fine. I just prefer the Rolling Stones and honestly, I just don't get what all the fuss is about." I shrug.

"The _fuss_?" Edward's eyes are as wide as saucers and his mouth is slightly open as if I had just confessed I murdered someone. "Have you listened to _Abbey Road_ and _Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band_? You cannot tell me that the Beatles are overrated if you listened to the pure genius of these albums."

"Have you listened to _Let it Bleed_, _Sticky Fingers_ and _Exile on Main Street_? It's pure genius too!" I comment. "They have nursed me through hard years of college."

"I have and I recognize the genius but you don't hear _me_ say that the Beatles are overrated."

"You asked for my opinion and I'm giving it to you. The Beatles are overrated. That's it."

"You _do_ know that you're having a musical debate with a music teacher, don't you?" he asks covering my hand with his as if to placate me. I shiver. "That means that, by definition, I'll always be right and you'll always be wrong." He smiles cockily at me.

I take back my hand. "I'm a woman. By definition, that means I'll always be right and you'll always be wrong!" I reply back just as arrogant as he is.

"Yeah, why is that?" he asks with a playful voice.

"The woman holds the key to sex in the relationship. If the man doesn't admit his mate is right about everything, then no sex. Therefore, no procreation and consequently the Earth dies. See?" I smile. "I'll always be right. That's just how the cycle of life works."

"Still, I'll always have the upper hand." He smiles at my blushing cheeks. "In music, I mean."

Sure, he did!

"So, what about the Beatles have more hit songs on one side of one of their album than the rest of bands have in their entire career?" he carries on.

"That's debatable. What is a hit song and how to you define that it's good? _Baby One More Time_ was a hit song and yet, you don't see me proclaim that Britney Spears is the greatest singer of all time."

"You did not just compare all of the Beatles hit songs to Britney Spears!" he cries out. "Ok, let me tell you, the Beatles are way beyond a commercial success. Their music has stood the test of time, outlasting disco, new wave, hair metal, grunge, Britney Spears, and just about every other fad you can recall. They were even the first band to form a concept album with _Sgt. Pepper_. That alone would certify them a legitimate and irrefutable standing in music's grandeur. Today, kids still get high listening to _Lucy in the Sky_ and _Yellow Submarine_. That's just how good they are. They make you listen to the feel of an era and yet, you can listen to them today and still think 'wow, this is so good'."

Duly noted: Edward is extra passionate and enthusiastic when you talk about music.

"Moreover," he persists, "just the fact that we are having this debate on whether or not the Beatles are overrated proves that they are indeed not overrated. Would you have this debate with the Rolling Stones? I don't think so." He finishes and takes a long gulp of his wine. Yes, I imagine he must be quite thirsty after his musical monologue.

"It's nice to see someone so passionate about their job." I comment hoping to close the debate.

"You should hear my father speaks about the new laparoscopy techniques he read about in the _Journal of Medicine_," Edward laughs. "That is passionate! That's why he thinks it's too bad I'm not a doctor because then, he would have someone to talk about it with."

"So, to answer my initial question, the Beatles are your favorite band, right?" I ask as the waitress comes to clear away our plates.

"Oh, no, actually, I like the Rolling Stones better." That cocky bastard laughs playfully at my outraged face. "And Bob Dylan is my favorite artist of all time. I just couldn't let you insult the Beatles, I'm a music teacher after all. Would you like some dessert?" he asks with a smile.

For one moment, I want to retort back something witty and vitriolic but I just end up saying "Yes, please." He may have won this one but the evening is not over yet.

* * *

Following our discussion, I ate the most delicious dessert ever: gingerbread French toast with cinnamon cream accompanied by honey and lavender ice cream. Even the name is dreamy. There were fireworks in my mouth and I think I even moaned a little. Edward seemed to like that because he threw me his trademark crooked smile, which makes me melt me like butter in summertime.

As Edward drives me back home, I can't help but feeling like a teenager again. This seemed too good to be true. Like every fantasy I ever had and more came true tonight. I feel like I felt the first time the boy I liked kissed me: my stomach knotted, butterflies in my throat, sweaty hands, and tongue like sandpaper. This is it. The goodnight kiss or the "we should stay friends monologue."

I notice suddenly that Edward is quiet too and he seems to watch me intently in between paying attention to the road.

"What?!" I exclaim a little more harshly than I intended.

He smiles and I watch him change gears. It's oddly sexy. "Nothing, it's just… you seem very eager to get home." He points at my foot which has been thumping the floor erratically. "I thought we had a good time. I thought _you_ had a good time but I seem to be mistaken." I see his face fall a little.

"I had an amazing time," I assure him.

"Then, what is it?" he asks and I stare at his hand change gears again. "You were lively at dinner and now it's like you can't wait to get rid of me."

After a few seconds of silence, I start to open my mouth to say something but I realize that we've arrived to my house. He parks his car right in front of my door and looks at me expectantly.

"Is this like charity work or something?" I blurt out. It seems like the alcohol and the dessert have erased the filter between my brain and my mouth. "A take one for the team or improve your karma kind of thing?"

His eyes are wide like saucers. "Excuse me?" he seems shocked. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

I sigh. "Why did you ask me on a date? Is this a game to you?"

"What do you mean, why did I ask you to go out with me?" He doesn't seem to understand what I'm trying to say. "Do I need a reason other than the fact that I like you?"

"You don't know me. How can you _like_ me?" I retort.

"Well, I like what I know about you." He makes a move to take my hand in his but I dodge him. "Isn't that reason enough?"

"No. What makes me special? What made you go to the trouble of asking your bartender friend to stall Rose in order to talk to me? Why me? There were a thousand girls in the bar that you could have gone home with the night we met. So I ask, why me?"

"Do you want me to bullshit you and tell you that I was attracted to your intelligence?" he seems angry now. "Of course, I find your intelligence appealing but that wasn't the first reason why I talked to you. I thought you were beautiful. And not in the innocent and respectful 'that girl is beautiful' way. I meant that in the 'I want to peel the clothes off of her and lick every inch of her skin' way."

I am literally speechless right now.

"Are you trying to say that I am some sort of booty call or something because let me tell right now that I…"

"Of course not!" he cuts me off. "You wanted me to be honest, right? Well, the reason I went to talk to you is because I thought you were hot. That's generally the reason why a guy comes up to a girl and asks her on a date. I'm not going to lie. The fact that you are smart, funny, witty, and completely neurotic is why I'm going to ask you on a second date."

I don't know why but I feel like I've been insulted and complimented at the same time.

"I'm not neurotic," is the only thing I manage to say.

"Yeah, you are," he laughs gently. "But it's okay, I have four sisters, I'm used to neurotic."

There is an awkward silence and after what feels like another long moment. I feel his hand on my cheek and I realize we're still sitting in his car.

"This is not a game, Bella. I like you and I want to see you again. And I'm very attracted to you, despite what you seem to think." His hand is cupping my cheek and his fingers are caressing me slowly.

My eyes are closing of their own accord. I have not had that much contact with a man in what seems like a thousand years and I feel like I might cry because it's so good. I feel warm. I feel like I'm not alone anymore. I feel connected, in some infinitesimal way. His thumb rubbing my skin, his breath near my face, it makes me feel like I'm part of the normal world again. Like I belong, like I'm no longer on the sidelines of my own life. It feels good.

"May I kiss you, now?" he asks but it's not really a question because his lips are so close to mine that he might have already been kissing me.

His mouth presses gently on mine at first and I can feel how soft and warm his full lips are. His hands tangle in my hair and I link mine around his neck. I press him closer to me and I'm breathless already. I pant and I moan and I gasp in his mouth. His thumb is stroking my lower lip gently coaxing my mouth open. I comply and his tongue slides in. It's wet and scorching and velvety against mine. I feel a fire building up. If he asked me to lay on the backseat and spread my legs, I would have seriously considered it. His tongue strokes mine feverishly, he seems to want to devour me. I feel his hands everywhere: my hair, my neck, my throat, my hips, and my back. They leave a trail of fire, of sweaty shivering in their track. I feel like I'm burning inside out.

I moan his name inadvertently when his mouth descends on my neck, sucking, licking, and nibbling his way to my ear and back again to my mouth. The kisses are hot and heavy and I feel the air thickening with our desire. The windows are all fogged up and I feel like I'm reenacting that Titanic scene. I smile against his lips and I feel him smile back at me against mine. He pulls away, staring deep into my eyes, his hand possessively on my neck, stroking and caressing. There's a fire in his green eyes. Maybe he's not all that gentle after all. This excites me for some reason.

"I think I'm going to go home now." He smiles devilishly. "You know, take a cold shower."

He looks even more handsome if that's possible. His lips are red and swollen and his hair is a tousled mess.

"I'll walk you to your door." He says as he opens the door on his side and the cold air is a shock on my overheated skin.

He takes my hand in his as we get to my front door. He kisses my mouth gently once, twice, thrice before I feel the heat building up again. The Beatles' 'I Want You (She's So Heavy)' echoes in my mind and I pull away. He leans his forehead on mine and his breath tickles my swollen lips.

"I'm calling you. Tomorrow; first hour. Are you free this week?" he whispers against my mouth and I nod. I can't speak. Every word is caught up in my throat.

"Perfect!" He smiles.

He kisses me longingly one more time before going back to his car. He waits for me to unlock the door, get inside, and relock it before leaving. I know because I watch him from my kitchen window.

I kick off my shoes and peel off my coat leaving them on the floor. I don't care.

I throw myself on my couch and get out my iPhone from my purse. Rose answers at the first ring.

"Hello?" her voice isn't even tired and it's past midnight.

"Rose, it's me." I try my best to cool myself down."I'm so sorry I've been a bitch to you earlier."

"Spill it, Swan!" she laughs and I know all is forgotten. I'm buying her a new pair of shoes tomorrow.

* * *

Note: Thank you for all the lovely reviews! I really appreciate it! I cherished each and every one of them! I hope you liked this chapter as well! I took part of the Beatles speech from a website, I can't remember which but know that it's not entirely mine so don't sue. Also, if you'd like, I created a polyvore account and I put up both Edward and Bella's outfits for the date; the link is on my profile.


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